In Your Room Young Lady

Did your mom ever make you spend the whole afternoon in your room?

Ava's Mom did.

Here's the thing, for the last week taking my children to public places has been well ummm...rather hellish. They run in different directions at the chiropractors, they pull shit down off the walls at the hobby place, and they were caught licking the floor at the grocery store - in separate aisles, no less. (I'm saving that tidbit for the first boy they ever decide to kiss.) And, don't even ask what happened when I tried to take the dog to the groomer with both of them in tow. It was not pretty. Let's just say the dog was the most well behaved on that trip off the cul-de-sac.

So, today I warned them and I warned them good. No shenanigans, stay close to me and do not touch one bolt of $50.00 a yard fabric. We enter the store and they make a bee line for the cording by the roll, pick it up and take off running...cording in hand unraveling throughout the store. Squealing in delight, no less.

The rather snippy mean lady checking me out barked something about not wiping noses on the cream damask silk drapery. I grabbed the first little arm I could get pinched it lightly and said SIT DOWN. Two very beautiful almond shaped eyes glared at me and one little pouty lipped girl simply said NO. I immediately had a kitten and walked out of the store...quiet and eloquent with rage.

I did not yell, amazingly enough. I did not stomp, still reveling at that one. I like to stomp on occasion. I simply announced that little girls who cannot listen and who act like heathens will no longer be privy to society.

It's a few hours later and little trouble is sleeping it off. Big trouble is starting to feel the pain since all the puzzles have been put together, all the dress up clothes are strewn over the floor and she's been denied scissors. I'm not sure why she needed scissors but today is not a day for her to wielding sharp implements, just for everybody's overall personal safety.

Oh god of raising small heathens and converting them into civilized critical thinking feminist young ladies...toss a Mom a bone.

Do we need to dial up the airconditioning?

Things have hit a maximum 10 on the boredom summer scale here today. I know this because the children have started scavenging the depths of Olivia's closet for things to make a mess of...I mean play with.


This seemed like a good idea at the time, it is 90 degrees outside.
















Now, I'm rethinking the whole thing. These mitts don't even match my dress.


















So Olivia, Did anyone help you with this little fleece mitts and hat and boots idea in the middle of July?

"Yeah, I'm looking at the culprit. And I'm wondering why SHE isn't the one sporting the mittens, my hands are starting to sweat."







How do I get myself into these things?

Summer Concert Series

Starting right after Christmas I pine away for the free summer concert series here in my town and conveniently enough my neighboring town. How gracious of them to schedule on different nights from each other. Technically, I could see a free little concert each and every Tuesday and Wednesday night of the summer if I so chose or could get my act into gear that many days a week. Which I can't, so I don't. This year I vowed to make it to tons of them though, fall is right around the corner and the children will be cooped up driving me to insanity in a few short months. Carpe Diem.

Pack the girls, add a few friends and their kids, tail gate like your kid is the star of Purdue football and toss in some sidewalk chalk...presto, have carload, will travel up the street to summer free concerts.

This week the older girls...meaning the 6 year old set, got jiggy with the sidewalk chalk. Knowing that chalk usually under most circumstances washes off next day at the pool...I mean in a quick shower, I chose to stick my fingers in my ears and close my eyes to the perplexing pandemonium.
The new portrait art, as defined by Ava.








Livi...helping herself to a "grown up " chair. That face means feed me cheese.


















Chalk noses all around.














And finally, my favorite. Anyone who has ever had a sibling will get this picture. Big sister is goofing around with her cronies and I just don't get it. Chalk on the face, falling all over themselves...how bourgeois. I think I 'll help myself to the 3rd chocolate chip cookie before my mom notices.

Two...and a half

Don't you just hate it when you are speaking to someone about the cantankerous and onerous things your 2 1/2 year old is doing on a very regular basis and then they remind you that 2 is nothing it is the three year olds you must seriously fear?

The once shy and laid back easiest baby in the whole wide world has now entered the chamber of darkness and has taken to regularly spinning her head 360 degrees while spewing green goo. Video at 10pm.

Here are some things I've noticed this week:

• She will not tolerate anyone within 6 feet of her while she attempts to completely dress herself. This includes diapering and complicated sandal buckles, of course.
  
• She cannot stand when her sister even suggests that they, God forbid, share a toy. She shows her displeasure with 63 decibel schreeching that has me headed for early hearing aids.
  
• She insists on fastening the car seat all by herself even though it has been ergonomically designed by engineering staff to make sure it is not doable for any two year old.
• She cannot help herself from stealing everyone's shoes and spreading them throughout the house making it quite difficult to find a matching pair of shoes when you are already 10 minutes late leaving the house.
  
• She delights in science experiments, like feeding the dog peanut butter from a hole in the crate and dumping the water bowl into the food bowl. Once was sort of funny, twice and I called her independent and spunky thrice....and she's going to find a new place to rent.
  
• She cannot help herself from torturing the dog by holding her collar in a vice grip every second I am not eagle eyeing her.
• She makes a second pass at doggie torture by tossing her obviously illegal toys to the dog while Ava and I run screaming after the dog DROP IT CHLOE!
  
• She simply WILL NOT concede to being potty trained, but delights in telling me the minute she pees and poops in the diaper and then insists on being changed.
• She will perform olympic quality splits, front rollovers, and monkey bar antics on command at home and screams and whines while clinging to my neck at toddler gymnastics (which we dropped out of today, thank you very much.)
  
• She refuses to eat meat, green things and whirls sippy cups at moving targets. And still she has managed to attain 37" and 28 1/2 lbs. She is the same size as her sister at 3 1/2 years old. This little fact caused me to have to scavenage around in the 105 degree attic this weekend for gently used size nine shoes and size 3T clothes. How does one grow that much on fruit snacks and cheese crackers?
  
• Oh, and she's pushing back on nap time.
  

Oh, no hold on there sparky...nap time is non-negotiable.

On The Go

Besides the fact that this summer of constant on the go status with my children is making me dog tired by 9pm each night, I have laundry stacked up 6 feet tall, and I just now got to mopping the kitchen floors this morning after a hiatus from cleaning the kitchen floors that set a new personal record, I am pausing to laugh hysterically at how much fun the girls are having now that summer is here. I'm tired...but man they are living large in the sun.

No, I'm not telling you how long that personal best was on the kitchen grime situation...but really you would have been as disgusted as I was. The break in the stretch was only set into motion as I saw the dog happily licking her breakfast of caked on applesauce off a kitchen chair. All I'm saying is she licked long enough to work her way through applesauce and then hit oatmeal. Old oatmeal.

We took the girls this past weekend to a neighboring town's freedom festival complete with candy parade. Ava named it the candy parade a few years ago when she realized that truly the only thing remotely interesting about the parade is the fact that participants in the parade toss copious amounts of candy to small children lining the street and doing the best to look forlorn after their evil rice cake carrying parents won't let them have any candy at home. Toss a girl a tootsie roll...PuhLEASE! Ava is famous in our circle of friends for throwing an elbow a few years ago on some unsuspecting three year old to get that one last Bit-O-Honey off the ground. She ALWAYS comes home with the biggest and baddest bag O' candy. Let no challenger step forth. Here she is on her scooter with bag of sweet loot slung over arm 10 minutes after the parade ended. Notice the aire of seriousness, and the 16th gobstopper giving her yet another cavity. You saw it here first.

A note about this town's freedom parade...the adults have resorted to placing bets on number of cheerleading squads not related school bands. I'm happy to report we came in a little under last year's record breaking 17 squads all cheering their little hearts out. And as a bonus, girls were less scantily clad this year in an amazing twist of events. And who said America is moving away from conservatism? An alarming number of little girls in skimpy bras and bare midriffs were spotted last year. Thank goodness the fashion police intervened for 2008. On a sad note, there were a few of the under 10 set that were sporting crimson lipstick and blue eyeshadow. Good bye, Jon Benet.

Finally, Livi...she had a ball. Here's the money shot. The child was in perpetual motion for 12 hours that day. Freinds and neighbors were amazed at her ability to scamper, ride a scooter, and skip all within a 2 minute time span. It must have been the tootsie rolls her sister was slipping her on the side. Yes that adorable red, white and blue dress is set off with a pink and yellow floral hat accessory. Don't judge me.

Two Years...from Ge Ge to Olivia

There is one very strange law of time and universe that I still cannot seem to wrap my mind around. Time with small children in your life often creeps along at a snails pace when you are living and breathing it...but then you turn around and reflect for just one moment and time seems to have slipped through your fingers like cherry jello...gone as fast as it seemed to appear.

Two years, it has been two years since my beautiful little Olivia Xi GeGe came into our lives for the first time. It was June 26, 2006 that our agency rep. called and said...you have a daughter from Guangdong Province, born November 12, 2005 in the town of Yangxi. We see lots of these pictures...but wow is she a super cutie with big chubby cheeks. We will email you the picture tomorrow as soon as everything has been translated and processed.

And, then time stood still. I was a mother to a living breathing daughter once again.
All of our hopes and dreams for one more child, a sister, were locked inside a Chinese Fed Ex packet. Something so mundane to wrap something so important that would change so many lives so quickly and with such permanence. It is virtually impossible to imagine life without her now. She is in many ways this family's little rock. She is the grounded one. She is the even keeled one. She is the one who trusts us most, she is one who loves without reservation or expectation. She can turn a grumpy stranger into a fast friend by choosing them for a quick high five and perhaps a random hug. I've seen her brighten store keeper's days and quickly chase blue days away.

And now, two years later that little round faced baby walks and talks and refuses to use the potty. She will kiss the dog on the lips and snuggle with you in the morning in bed always remembering to share the blankets. She has devilish charm that can be seen when she tells you "One more time", holding her one finger up as she climbs the playground slide for the 26th time.
You are where you are supposed to be, baby girl. Thanks for coming into our lives. Can't wait to see what the next two years brings.

I need a floaty ring to get off the cul-de-sac

We have officially been doing the summer routine, or lack there of it, for 3 weeks now. My kids and their no-school status are kicking my ass. There I said it, I'm Perrin and summer and my kids are kicking my ass and living to laugh about it, probably behind my back. Don't get me wrong, I love summer even more than that average gal. I have been pining away for summer since Christmas. I guess I hadn't really thought about the fact that having the 6 year old in school being entertained by darling little Kindergarten teacher for 7 hours each and every day was as good as prozac for my personal mental health.

All in all, it really isn't her fault. She is as stunned by the lack of routine and sudden onslaught of ridiculously serious swimming lessons as I am having to entertain 2 fighting children 27 hours each and every day. Long gone are the days when Ava would look up at me and state that she truly loved little Olivia because she was the sweetest little sister you could possibly order up from the great nation of China.

My darling sweet tempered Liv, is dealing with the change in routine with a complete personality turnaround only to be rivaled by Sybil herself. Liv now gets my attention by pulling the dog's tail with one hand and sticking her fist in the dog's mouth with the other. Then, in an impressive display of dexterity she will turn on her heel and club her sister with the saliva stained fist all in one full swoop. Maybe I should video it and submit to a contest. If we won we could use the money to send these children away to summer camp.

Oh, I forgot to add that Liv will be named the world's champion whiner at the convention in Las Vegas next month. I bow before you as a humbled noble parent. We got the certified letter in the mail yesterday. It is an esteemed honor, we know and we are so proud. Other children may have tried to compete with sheer number of hours spent whining and number of anti-depressant pills their parents slug in one day. But not one has shown the style that Liv has and the intensity for which she shows her craft. There is some serious emotion behind her talent, it comes deep within her gut at about 60 decibels beyond what even a dog can hear if you must know. Send No-Whining buttons.

Rounding the corner in this week's news round up, Chloe the new dog, you know the one that lets Olivia practice for her proctology and dentist licenses without complaint, has taken to maiming and killing small rodents within the walls of her new backyard. Yesterday's victim was a hapless and sadly cute little chipmunk. May he rest in peace. (In the neighbor's backyard, but that is another summer time story.) This dog, who is amazingly sweet natured and delightful while inside the house has turned into the Executioner as soon as she steps foot on the deck. She caught the chipmunk yesterday and only maimed it. I screamed bloody murder at her until she dropped it on the ground. I made her come inside to give the creature an opportunity to recover and hopefully scamper to safety. An hour later she went back out to "play with the kids". Within 20 minutes I saw her yet again with the chipmunk in her mouth, who I thought was ok since he got up and walked away from the crime scene the first time. I screamed for the Muffin Man who came running with a shovel. Ava yelled at the Muffin Man not to hurt Chloe (the shovel was for a dead little rodent, but Ava thought otherwise) and Livi shouted at the dog "Time Out...Bad Doggie" while swinging happily on the swingset. Where was I during the drama? Running around chasing the dog yelling for her to "DROP IT". Yes, I do know the dog can sprint 40 miles an hour and that is how she caught the thing in the first place.

The whole ordeal ended with Chloe in victory clenching one very dead little chipmunk in her mouth. The kids were surprisingly ok with the scenes of carnage played out before them. Maybe it is because we watch too much Meerkat Manor. The Muffin Man ended the ordeal by heaving the dead chipmunk into the neighbor's back woods...and then we all went inside and ate ice cream. And that, is how Chloe killed Alvin the Chipmunk.

It's only Thursday and quite frankly I have to quit for the week. I'm that tired. And, I didn't even tell you how I ready I am to hire Jo the Supernanny just to help me get out the door by 9am to attend swimming lessons. Seriously, it is too freaking hard just to get two little girls into the car to drive 2 miles to swim lessons? Apparently, for me it is. Apparently, summer itself is a little more than I'd bargained for.

Ahhh, Paradise

Seven whole days in paradise last week, enough to do a soul some good. This is what paradise looked like sitting in the plumb far corner seat inside the Mucky Duck restaurant located at the end of the earth, Florida style. Notice the Miller Lite umbrella? Ahh, yes Captiva Island wants for nothing I tell you.

And then there is paradise with small children. This is what I like to call Paradise Light.





I have taken both of my children to the beach as 1 and 2 year olds and they both have turned on me like rabid raccoons. Liv decided about mid week through the vacation that white sandy beaches, lunches on boats, and fresh grouper were really...not so much her thing. She doesn't care about saving manatees and beautiful curly natural shells are just that...shells that hurt when you step on them. On Thursday, it came to her that if she threw a raging screaming fit out on the beach that Mommy would step into high gear remove writhing screeching 2 year old and high tail it to the pool, located about 300 steps inland. Hmmmm, immediate turn around in attitude when 10,000 jumps from the pool side onto Mom's head commences. Now we are having fun.

Both of my children absolutely had "issues" with the ocean at this age and I am encouraged for future endeavors to paradise by this.

This is Ava's happy as a clam to be in the ocean face. She spent the week charming each and every other child out in the sun and surf and even managed to score all the coveted toys for serious castle making. Wouldn't it be nice it if I had a fabulous picture of that castle to insert here? Yes, it would since I spent over 2 hours making that castle with a moat and sea shell windows with the girls while the Muffin Man and my dad were grocery shopping one morning. (In paradise Mommies do not grocery shop. It's against the law.) Yes, wouldn't it be nice if I had a picture of the TWO castles I made to appease my two year old who wanted a castle of her own? (Think MINE MINE MINE.) Sorry, just as it was approaching sand castle hall of fame quality, Ava and her new little buddy from just north of NYC came crashing in sending all of the little knights and princesses skittering into the Gulf of Mexico. End of sand castles. Apparently I was more impressed with said sand castle than Ava or her new little buddy from just north of NYC.

On a high note, we saw dolphins. Real dolphins swimming in their natural habitat in the gulf while on a tour boat one afternoon. I've decided that everyone is fascinated with dolphins since they are the ocean's equivalent of a Labrador retriever. You clap your hands and whoop and holler a few times and they jump and dance along side the boat. What's not to love?

Can you imagine the end of a perfect vacation at the airport? Wouldn't it be something like you step up to the Air Tran counter and the employee says, "You don't have to layover with 2 little tired kids in Atlanta for 3 hours and get home at 6pm tonight. You can take this flight that is direct RIGHT NOW if you high tail it down to the gate. Oh, and there are no seats together in cattle class so I'm upgrading you and your cute little family up to first class. Don't tell the man sitting next to you. " And then you sailed through the security check because there wasn't one other soul within ear shot. And then your 2 year old giggled hysterically all the way running to the gate since it was so much fun to hurry, hurry hurry through a public building.

Swear, it happened. Man, I so hope my dad wants to party on down with us again in paradise next year. Life's a beach.

Special Requests

It's double post day, since grandma asked for new pictures. Livi does not have a special graduation today...but she just looks so darn cute here on average Thursday...that we had to give her a little equal air time.

























She is completely and thoroughly obsessed with juice boxes. So much so that she has been stealing them out of a cooler in the backyard left over from a backyard party this weekend.

Then she feeds the straws to the dog. Perhaps this is why the dog is now barfing. Perhaps this is too much information...but the dog also got a healthy dose of corn. Don't ask me how I know that, you don't want to know. Livi, don't feed the dog. For the 18th time, don't feed the dog.

Take A Dip In The Pool and Then It's Off To 1st Grade

Kindergarten graduation is right around the corner here on the cul-de-sac. I kid you not, Ava graduates from Kindergarten in about 1 hour. She's glueing her last piece of macaroni to construction paper as we speak (or write, as the case might be). Next year we will be all about spelling words, Brownie Troops, and movie nights with friends. I still think of her as this little kid.




9 months










Or maybe this little kid.





2 1/2 years








Or, if I stretch...maybe I can accept this little kid as my little kid.


5 years old.

But I am simply struggling to accept that she is now this kindergarten graduate today.























Someone, please put a brick on her head. And talk to me about how university education is a thousand eons away.

Chloe

When our dog of 14 years passed away last year I honestly thought I would be ok with not having another dog. Wouldn't it be sweet or romantic to say it was because I was so in love with and enamored of that little Lhasa Apso there could never be a replacement? I suppose it might be but that wouldn't be true. That dog was a pain, we loved her mostly all the same but she could be a pain. She never fully house trained and to replace carpets was a pretty penny. She would bite you if you woke her from sleep and think nothing of it when your finger bled. She ate too many pairs of Italian shoes to count. She simply would not cuddle when you needed it most and refused settle down when guests came to the door. I can't say I wished death on her or anything like that, but I have to admit I was ok with it all after the initial blow that she was going to pass away.

So, as the Muffin Man has been ramping up on his "let's get a new dog campaign 2008"...I have been cool at best. He wanted a pure bred, I insisted on a mutt. He wanted a small dog, I wanted nothing to do with yippee little dogs with attitude. He wanted a completely indoor dog, I wanted a dog who could be independent if left outside for an afternoon. He did not mind spending money at a breeder for a dog, I thought $75 for a shelter dog was the max I could deal with. He wanted a cute dog, I wanted a dog that was eager to please...ME. Needless to say we have been at a stalemate and quite full here on the cul-de-sac with enough beings in the house. I saw no reason to tip the balance. Translate...I got enough goin' on with 2 kids a husband who travels and a wee little small business on the side.

But then last week I got it in my head that maybe it would be ok to look for a breeder of a pug or puggle and surprise him for father's day. He really wanted a dog. So, I combed the rescue web sites and contacted 2 breeders. I had never looked online before but thought, "what the heck he will wear me down eventually anyway." Of course the kids would probably like an dog too. What 6 year old and 2 year old wouldn't? I said nothing about looking online and simply thought if there is a decent dog out there she will find us in time for Father's Day.

That same night Brian took the girls on a walk in the neighborhood and met Jim. Brian stopped him to ask what kind of dog he had, he thought it was super adorable. Jim explained that the dog was a puggle, cross between a beagle and a pug. Then Jim said, "Are you looking for a dog?" Brian explained that we were considering a dog this summer, if only he could convince his wife. Jim said, " You want mine?" Apparently Jim and his wife couldn't give the dog all the exercise she needed and they had contacted 2 rescues that day. They felt that they had made a mistake in taking Chloe and felt that she needed more attention.

As you can imagine it took Brian all of about 6 seconds to get home and tell me about the dog named Chloe who was about to be given up for adoption, and she was only 11 months old, and she had been spayed, and she had all her shots, and and and.......

Now it is a week later. And yes, Jim and Linda did give us the dog. I was excited but also had a slight twinge of fear, what if she is exactly like Bailey, the carpet peeing thumb biting wonder?

It's only been a week but Chloe is definitely ours. When Livi pulls her tail she simply walks away. When Ava gives her a bear hug she licks her face. She is smart and sweet and LOVES the kids. She plays happily all day and sits down on my lap at night while I rub her ears as we watch tv together.

So, I guess this is welcome to the family Chloe.

Updated to add***Chloe came to us with her name and it rhymes with our last name. This provided immeasurable entertainment for the clerk at the Petco when I stopped by to buy her a new tag. It also appears hilarious to our dear friends who this weekend couldn't get enough of yelling "come here little Chloe ______" while tossing a ball her way.

Some things in life just might be meant to be.

Prezzies From Down Under

I received my Lemonade Doll Quilt Swap quilt today. How exciting to come home with a whiny tired toddler after a morning of running errands and the Muffin Man says, "You got something in the mail all the way from Australia."

Whee....Australia, hooray. I visited Sydney and Melbourne several years ago on business. They were the trips of a lifetime. I'd love to go back when the girls are a bit bigger and could truly enjoy a trip like that.

Here is how it came wrapped! In material. That in itself might have been enough of a present for me. You know this darling piece of fabric will not go unused! The little note even had a handmade fabric flower attached. (I might have to "steal" this idea.)

Then....as I opened the fabric wrapped package...

Wow! Red and aqua in an amazing trail complete with beautiful perfect hand quilting stitches. This little quilt has so much detail that this picture does not capture.

Look at the back of the quilt.


















It is every bit as pretty as the front. And, if that was not enough. My present came with a book for my girls.
In a note Donna said that Mem Fox is an Autralian writer. Ava will be so excited when she comes home from school since she is reading now and loves her books.

My day is made. Thank you Donna for all the lovely work. The little quilt will be wrapping a chilly little doll or stuffed bear this afternoon, I just know it.

Why Me

There is an organization called Y-Me who supports women and their families who have been diagnosed with breast cancer. When I was diagnosed at age 31 with breast cancer in September of 2000 I simply could not identify with a group that called itself Why Me. I swear I never once thought Why Me...why NOT me? Yes, I suppose I was a little young to have been given the diagnosis of breast cancer but I always had the feeling Why Not Me? One in 8 of us women will supposedly deal with this diagnosis in our life times. When you lined me up with 7 other women I guess I just never thought I would stand out as being any different on the inside and therefore Why NOT me?

For the first time in the 7 1/2 years since my diagnosis and subsequent remission after surgery, chemo, and radiation I have thought Why Me? Why have I been given the gift of life...or as it is...more life? How did I win this cancer lottery of sorts and then go on to have the two most amazing children in my life? I have my husband who loves me for who I am, I have my immediate family who supports everything I do. I have everything. Why Me?

These Why-Me thoughts have been brought on by a re-lapse of a friend I met along my cancer journey. She is a woman my age who happened to be a friend of a friend. She was about a year behind me in diagnosis and we were able to meet and become friends as we both finished our treatments. We attended cancer fundraisers together periodically, we walked a race or two together. After her treatments ended and she was pronounced in remission she married a wonderful man. The Muffin Man and I went to the wedding. She wanted children. Where I decided to never try for a pregnancy again for fear of tipping the hormonal balance I pursued the adoption route with avengence, she made the decision to have biological children. She had her first baby 2 years ago. His name is Henry. Then she had a second son, Cooper in September 2007. After the birth of her Henry she appeared radiant to me, swelling with pride and love for that little boy as I sat on her couch while visiting. She should be living life, loving her husband, kissing her kids and working at her career.

But she is not. A few weeks ago she was told her cancer had spread to her lung, liver and possibly her brain. She has been immediately transported to another world...one that is filled with treatments, surgeries, chemo, radiation and fear of leaving a young family too soon.

Her name is Tiffany. She is not yet 40 years old. She is real and wears label of cancer on her lovely creamy white skin and in her strawberry blond hair. I guess I could certainly understand if she was now asking Why Me.

If you are one to say a prayer, or send a positive message into the universe would you please think for a moment of Tiffany and her family?

I Flies

We took a little trip to the zoo this week to see the traveling exhibition of butterflies, which Olivia carefully describes as Iflies. This exhibition came to town a few years ago when Ava was about 2 1/2 years old and I was petrified she would stomp the lovely little things and use all her powers to grab the butterflies to squish them in her then chubby little hands. This was at the height of Ava's stomp on all things living including human playmates phase.

But she didn't that day. We talked and talked about how to act at the butterfly house and she was as good as gold. A somewhat rare thing for Ava at 2 1/2. She had a blast and absolutely loved the butterflies. I was amazed at how much she ran through the building with wonder and amazement, all the while carefully holding her fingers up for a hopeful butterfly to land. She talked about the butterflies for weeks after the visit.

You can imagine my excitement as I read that the butterflies would be coming back to our zoo this spring. I invited Livi's playgroup and we caravaned downtown. Knowing how gentle and loving Olivia is by nature, I was sure she would be just as captured by the spirit of the wonderful exhibition with so many gorgeous butterflies everywhere.

Wrong. She freaked. She called them bugs and screamed until I picked her scrawny butt up and perched her on my hip the-entire-time. No amount of explaining that butterflies were in fact the cutest and most gentle of all bugs and they would in no way hurt her would pacify her. Kids? Who ever gets it right?

I enjoyed the butterflies none the less and did my very best to play national geographic photographer with 27 lbs. of Livi on one hip, diaper bag slung over shoulder and camera in the other 3rd hand.

Here is Liv with her little gal pal cronies. Of course trying to get them ALL to pose at one time in one space was not in the cards. The others were behind me either intentionally evading their mothers or or eating snacks behind me as I attempted a picture.

Obviously, this picture was taken before Olivia realized that a trip to visit butterflies meant that she would be in the same room with the dreaded Iflies.










The lovely Miss M thought Olivia's panic was most melodramatic and found satisfaction in bonding with one distinguished yellow butterfly.

And so did Miss E.














You go...ladies. You know these 2 will be explaining the finer points of chrysalis transformation by kindergarten.

Why I don't buy toys anymore....

Because who needs or wants toys when you can sneak into Mommy's closet and find boots made for walkin'.

Or classy pool shoes made for cloggin'.

And all the while the toys lining their little shelves in their beautiful rooms....collect dust.

By the way, I think Liv might have a look going for her there. That's a pretty hot look with the diaper added to the ensemble. The girl's got class.

Picture Time

Yesterday, it was time for the annual pilgrimage to the mall for picture taking time. Oh, the groans...not from them, from me.

I've been putting this off for several weeks, just not being able to muster the energy to wrangle them both in cute coordinating outfits, while making sure their teeth were not growing any fuzz that would show up in the photo and making sure they both had clean hair on the same day. And by clean that means no baby powder in Olivia's hair since on a daily basis she seems to outwit me and finds baby powder stored in the recesses of linen closets to dump all over the floor and her head. Every single time. I now think it is a strange genetic thing and she literally cannot help herself, no matter how many times Mommy gets "mod" (mad).

For Ava clean hair means no bubble gum. She's learned to blow bubbles, and hasn't quite mastered the concept of tossing the head to the side BEFORE bubble pops. This is a highly sought after skill that most females of average or higher intelligence do eventually master, but as we all know it can take time. All this cleanliness and cuteness is no doubt a monumental task for me.

Why do I do it? It's FCC calendar time. I always submit their picture for the FCC calendar because ours is still the largest in the country and makes a decent chunk of change that is submitted to Chinese Children's charities each and every year....for 10 years now running. And, you thought it was because I was a closet stage mom, prepping my cuties for future Miss America contests. Yeah, notice the $5000 gowns they are wearing? Um hm, Target $5.99.
You too can see your amazing darling in the calendar next year by going to www.fcc-in.org for the instructions. It's a worthy cause, really it is.

Olivia for the most part got into the car and sashayed into the mall looking very much like she did in the photo. This was the look we were going for...casual summer, comfortable. Ava on the other had had the white blouse but no matching skirt or shorts. Neither girl had acceptable matching shoes. And, hair bows were folly for upcoming arguments.

My Mission before setting foot in walk-in photo store: Find Ava some coordinating something or other to cover her little bottom and find shoes for them both or give up and hope their feet were not too dirty for photo.

Ava's Mission: Beg and plead 1000 times for flip flops. End of story.

Can you see where this is going?

I had been putting this trip off for several weeks storing up all my energy for undiverted and successful trip to the mall. No amount of begging from 6 year old would break my mental toughness. We enter first shoe joint. Ava begs and plead for gross Hannah Montana pink plastic flip flops. I put my foot down and staunchly deny her. We move to next shoe joint where she finds the shoes she is wearing in the picture. I agree they are acceptable shoes and she proclaims them flip flops! Which they are technically not but who am I to argue? She gets "flip flops" and I don't have to settle on what look like 1985 pink jellies from hell that will pay for Miley Cyrus' future drug rehab in Palm Springs.

Bonus, they have matching ones for Olivia. I whip out a credit card and everyone is stepping a little lighter. Next stop, shorts or skirt that sort of matches the whole theme here. Ava and I argue for a few minutes while I try to cajole her into wearing these completely adorable plaid shorts. Of course, she hates them and refuses. I'm a little worried about her developing sense of style. Then, the whole mission almost got derailed when I spotted this. Because let's be honest, that is cuter that what I originally planned. But, I had to stay focused in that dinner time was approaching and if we didn't make some progress the whole thing was going to blow up in my face if Olivia got, dare I say it, hungry.

After agreeing on non-offensive jean shorts we turned left and headed in to the photo place. Good, news they could take a walk in. The mall was deserted. That's what happens in the mid-west when the first few 70 degree days pop up. So, now all we had to do was re-comb everyone's hair, change Ava's shorts, clean raisins out of Olivia's teeth, change both girls shoes and change a diaper. For posterity's sake, I was sweating by this time.

And, all that BEFORE anyone even picked up a camera.

But, the thrill of victory is sweet. We got a few nice pictures, and since I was in robo-mom mode I quickly discarded any hard sell for "picture club" and walked out with our 2 sheets of photos that we came for and not one thing more.

And then we ate "umburgas" (hamburgers) at Johnny Rockets. Ava asked if Daddy and I came there on dates since it was such a great place. I didn't have the heart to break it to her that no, when daddy and I do date...which is about bicentenially now...we don't choose Johnny Rockets but I would keep it in mind.

A Quirky Tag

I got tagged the other day and because basically I usually do as I'm told....here it is .

1. Link to the person who tagged you: Jill
2. Post the rules: see # 3
3. Share six unimportant habits/quirks about yourself: see below
4. I think I am supposed to tag others...but since I don't do everything I'm told(ha, you believed that crap about doing as I'm told)...please play along if you feel so inclined.

1. I love olives. I eat them almost everyday. My girls love them as well. People think it is strange that a 6 year old and a 2 year old would love olives. I don't. I think it is weird when people don't love them. The first time I went to Spain couldn't believe how lucky I was when all the restaurants served free olives with every meal! I was young and didn't really comprehend the magic of tapas. Do you know what goes with olives really well? Chick peas. I love them too and can eat them out of a can. Is that gross?

2. I don't get out much anymore. Liv loves home and routine and sometimes gets wiggy when we do too much. I'm very social by nature...and have been my whole life. But even though I joke about not showering and leaving the cul-de-sac very often...I'm secretly enjoying this part of my life where I'm somewhat anti-social. I hardly ever worry about what I'm missing out there in the big wide world like I used to. Shower optional is a good thing.

3. When I was little I bit my nails. Gross. Now that I am older I don't bite my nails anymore but I can't seem to stop ripping the holy living crap out of my cuticles. I think it is true what they say about leaving one bad habit but then picking up another bad habit to replace it.

4. I love my daughter's armpits. They are the cutest thing I've ever seen. They are so wrinkly and adorable. She is 6 and I still ask to see them sometimes before she goes to bed. She will give me the equivalent of a quick arm pit flash and then deny me, laughing hysterically. This game makes me laugh every time. I never tire of it.

5. I have clutter issues. I hate clutter. I'm the opposite of those people who are on HGTV or Oprah who need interventions because they hoard so much stuff. I get the willies just watching those shows. But the weird thing is I will let dust pile up and the carpets usually need vaccuming. I compulsively organize and toss junk away but don't deep clean very often for someone who claims to be so bothered by unorganized crap. So, I'm not that much of a neat nick. I'm a fake neat nick. Who has very few preschool art projects saved.

6. Some days I am living for the moment that I will have both of my children in school and I will have time for myself on a regular basis. But then I'm also terrified that I won't find something else that is satisfying and productive that will make me happy. It's an odd feeling to be waiting eagerly for something and sensing a dreaded aspect of it all the same.

What's weird about you?

Holy Tudor Family

When I was visiting my mom she gave me The Other Boleyn Girl, by Phillipa Gregory to read. Since I am wildly and unhealthily addicted to The Tudors on Showtime I snatched it up in 2 seconds flat.

The book is smut...and I am greedily sucking up every word while the girls sleep. Over 600 pages...good grief, overkill. I'm on page 400 something and seriously rooting for Anne to get her pretty little head lopped off. Since I'm not above a little good smut now and again, it does a soul good, I should be done by weekend.

However, reading the book while watching the series at the same time? It is messing with my mind. As I aimlessly walked Olivia in the stroller a few miles this morning at one point I could have sworn I heard the swishing of green velvet in 6 yards of skirts. But then I looked down and realized it was only the muffin man's sport socks I was accidentally wearing. How does one accidentally wear black ankle sport socks even while working out with only a two year old? I casually pulled out a bowl of grapes this morning from the fridge and could have sworn I saw an amazing fruit bowl before me...fit for a king...complete with mangoes and exotic fruits from the far reaches of Europe.

Then I had a little fantasy of purchasing a small Tudor house with a little farm and only taking a few ladies in waiting and man servants as the muffin man and I gave up our time at court to become country farmers. Then of course I bore him a son to carry on the name. Strangely enough there was no Chinese adoption in the day dream.

Is this a sign that I need to talk to someone over the age of 2 1/2 during the daytime hours? I've gotta get a John Irving book off the shelf or something, and maybe a little reality tv.

Spring Break...We're Back

Ahh, a delightful week filled with grandparents huffing and puffing after two little demons wrecking havoc on their usually spotless house. And all the while I simply turned a blind eye and skipped out the front door to watch movies at a real movie theater and sip $4.00 a cup Chinese tea with my brother.

Lovely I tell you. Lovely. But, we are back...we missed the Muffin Man who had to work for a living and chase raccoons out of our backyard while writing no less than 4 checks to the wildlife control people for permanent and irrevocable removal but without euthanasia for the capture of three raccoons and one opossum! He intelligently made the decision to cut the wildlife guy off with his wire traps and sugar donuts for bait when we suspected we were catching each and every wildlife critter in the neighborhood. Would it be unseemly to ask for donations in a tin can at the next neighborhood association meeting? Don't think me above it. So, we are out a few hundred bucks and the long time varmint residents have been evicted. What will the birds do as they actually have a chance to eat the suet block and cardinal grub rather than just watching as the raccoons scarf it greedily down? Maybe if this blog gets boring, too late? I will start posting spring pictures of backyard robins, cardinals, and blue jays...now that could be really exciting.

What else was new while my girls visited more than one park a day with grandma and grandpa? I joined a doll quilt swap and sewed my little heart out capitalizing on my mother's summer dining room table, using it to spread out for the sake of creativity! The story of the doll quilts is over here. Go ahead read it...it is filled with plot, angst, jubilation and a twist of unexpected events involving the color pink.

Since we are back and Costco made my buy the 10 lb. bag rather than the 2lbs. that we really needed...we are celebrating with apple pie! Yes, with swimsuit season right around the corner I need an apple pie on my hips like I need blue doll quilt...or wait...I really do need a blue doll quilt.

In other news I've been tagged for Jill's meme. Now, to come up with some quirky things about myself. Note to self...should I consider mentioning publicly my other career as exotic pole dancing queen to make money for my kids 529's?

Maybe not.

Sides

I can't get this taking sides stuff out of my head. There really is pressure to take sides in our society...Barack or Hillary, pull troops out or keep them there, working mother vs. stay at home mother, soda or pop. Everyone wants there to be a right and a wrong. Good and evil. Black and white. But really, when we commit to honesty there isn't is there? Despite the comfort in cuddling up with one side or another and having your opinion all rolled up in a warm fuzzy blanket and the other guy being completely wrong...it is merely an illusion. Life is complicated, humans are flawed and amazing at the same time, we have been given free will to do good and to do no-good.

Recently, I have read some pieces by people who have weighed in on some arguments both for and against adoption. Personally, I usually find that when complicated issues are boiled down to a simply pro or con...it usually does the issue no justice at all and you end up with something like a sitcom sound bite.

My children, though I know very little about the specifics of their early months in this life did not have it easy. Through no fault of their own they lost birth families, birth culture and endured institutional care. Then they were placed in the arms of some giddy would be parents who traveled across the world to "take them home." Did white privilege play a role in the transaction? Yes, I have to answer I believe it did. Had I been born a poor black woman in the American projects without education or opportunity would I be able to fly across the world and adopt an internationally born child? I cannot say absolutely not, (because I have had the opportunity to know some pretty amazing minority people who have obtained middle class status and high education despite lack of easy opportunity) but statistics would tell me the chances would be slim at best.

Will I apologize or self denigrate to society and my children for my place and my actions that lead me to want to have children in my life? No, I will not. Even though I sought out and actively pursued both of my children for selfish reasons, I believe in my heart that they are better off being raised by loving parents who are wholly committed to seeing they they are raised with warmth and kindness rather than without parents and family at all. Does it mean that they will not or have not grieved for what they have lost? Absolutely not. Sometimes that which does not kill us does indeed make us stronger, kinder and more able to love. It is a choice, to see life in shades of gray trying not to judge others for their misgivings and mistakes. It is a choice to take life and say thank you for small positive things each day. Do not misinterpret this to mean that that which pains us should be forgotten, or suppressed or swept under a proverbial carpet for the sake of a smiling facade. But, when you feel deeply loss and pain, remain with it and then come through it with gratitude you have overcome. You become free to be a being of love.

I would say that on the outside I have probably been a champion, dare I say poster child, for adoption. I have counseled people when they have come to me asking about adoption, I am careful to add it cannot under any circumstance be to physically or spiritually "save" one child, for that will end badly. But it is human nature to want for others what has filled your life with love and hope and I am guilty of perhaps some over zealous conversations in the throws of excited adoptive talk. I'm thinking about these sides people are talking about and perhaps it will make more a tad more careful in my choice of words and more reflective about the realities of what can and does happen in adoption. It cannot be disputed that it would ultimately be better for children if parents were counseled more on the 100's of what ifs..and to get down and dirty...it ain't all ladybugs and red threads and bouncing baby girls in lace headbands at the end of the day.

Ultimately, as my children grow I will continue to defend my choices if need be. I have no
regrets about their adoptions. Do I feel deeply for those who lost when I gained? Yes, I do. I did my best with what information I had at the time. In the same breath I will add I consider it my responsibility to listen to their feelings and wishes as they grow. It is my duty to be open about their situations with them in the home. It is my duty to find professional help, should they at any time need or want it. It is for me to love them but remember that they are not mine, nor would any children who had come through me had that been the case. Their decisions and opinions and actions are their own. They have all the power they need.

I am not naive when it comes to the the gross realities of corrupt individuals on all sides of all oceans. Nor am I naive to the decisions that governments think they need make to protect masses. I advocate discussion that leads to action where children do not lose birth parents due to poverty or lack of education or by the hands of those without parents and children's best interest at heart. But then the day is done, and choices by adults lead to children without homes I think I will always believe that a child will fare best with the love of a permanent family.